Everybody Loves a Clown, So Why Don't You?
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Apologies for this being a day late! XD My annual monologue for Mark Hamill's birthday, narrated by the Clown Prince of Crime himself! Happy belated 63rd birthday to the one and only Joker :-)


**Everybody Loves a Clown, So Why Don't You?**

Wanna hear a joke? Ok, I got a killer for you.

There was this dame – smart, attractive, successful, a real hard-working, capable career gal. A shrink, to be specific. And one day she meets this guy. Now, I ain't gonna lie, this guy is to die for. Literally. The handsomest, funniest, smartest, most talented guy who ever lived. Ok, I admit it, it's me, but you probably figured that out from the description already.

Anyway, this professional gal meets this guy, and falls for him the moment he pushes her – head over heels. I mean, crazy, psycho love. But then she is only human. She busts him outta the nuthouse…oh, didn't I mention the guy was considered a lunatic and locked up in an asylum? Sorry, must have skipped that bit. It was a false imprisonment anyway – this guy ain't a lunatic, he's a genius. But more on that later.

So she busts him outta the nuthouse, throws away her career and success to become this guy's helper. I guess you could call her his henchwench. And that's the punchline.

What, you don't think it's funny? I think it's hysterical. Every time I think about it, I just can't stop laughing. See, the whole thing's a joke, and I set it up. And it never gets old. It's not my fault you're all a buncha humorless chumps who can't see that.

So I wish people would stop asking me this stupid question. Do I love Harley Quinn? First of all, since when did everybody get so nosy into my business? What are you, cops? Shrinks? Perverts? Mind you, I think those often go hand-in-hand. Y'know, cops getting to do their strip searches, and cavity searches – you think you'd volunteer for that job if you weren't some kinda sick freak? And the shrinks, well, they're just obsessed with sex. You ever read Freud? Neither have I, but he was a sick freak too. And if you don't believe that shrinks are obsessed with sex, you should hang around Harley sometime! Every time I'm trying to work, trying to concentrate and have a little time to myself, it's "puddin'" this, "Mr. J," that. "Please, please, please rev up your Harley!" Sometimes there's no reasoning with her – you just gotta give her the boot. Literally. But that's women. Buncha crazy, greedy nymphomaniacs who won't take no for an answer.

So why do I keep her around? Well, without being too blunt, just because I don't want it all the time don't meant I don't want it at all. I mean, I ain't some kinda sex maniac, but I'm also not some kinda repressed freak like the Hat Guy or the Fear Freak. Or probably Bats. I mean, why else would he be such a control freak bent on restricting other people's fun? Nothing better to do with his time, or no _one _better to do, am I right? Has to sublimate his sexual urges beating people into a bloody pulp. That's the difference between him and me – I just enjoy the violence, while his violent tendencies are a substitute for intimacy. Or so Harley tells me. Not that they don't make me feel special, though.

Is it just about the sex? What, between me and Batsy? Well, the tension is exquisite, but we've never actually…oh, you mean me and Harley! No, of course not. I don't keep any object around just to use! It's gotta be fun too! Like all my weapons – practical, but fun. The joy buzzer, the bang flag, the laughing gas – you get the idea. Deadly, but still a gag. And that's why I started this whole thing with that joke. I mean, Harley's a really funny joke when you think about it. She had so much potential to live a boring, serious life, and now she's having fun every day, and it's all thanks to me! A joke and a life lesson about what a humane, compassionate guy I am.

What do you mean I'm not humane and compassionate? Of course I am! Who's the guy who always wants to put a smile on people's faces, whether they want it or not? Me, that's who! Who's the guy who spends night after night spreading laughter and comedy to these Gotham sad sacks? Me! The hours I spend on these labors of love, and do I get any gratitude for it? Like hell I do! I just get people like you calling me things like homicidal lunatic!

Yeah, I've been called a lotta names in my time. Psychopath. Degenerate. Monster. Maniac. Excellent Dresser. But I think the most accurate is probably genius. Harley calls me that. And you know what they say – sticks and stones may break my bones, but guns will save on cleanup. But then what's fun without a mess?

Sorry, I got fantasizing about beating people with sticks and stones there. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Harley. Do I love her? Well, does anyone really love an object? I mean, people are really possessive about their stuff – I've committed enough burglaries to know that! They hate to lose it, and I'd hate to lose Harley. Y'know, a guy like me needs all the tools he can get. And you grow attached to something when you have it a long time. Does that mean you love it? I guess it can. People say "I love my car" or "I love my home" or "I love my Bat-themed gadgets." I guess it depends on how you define love.

I am not evading the question! All right, tell me the definition of love! Putting someone else's needs before yours. Wow, that's a pretty shallow definition. Who actually does that? Well, I guess Harley does, but she's a bit of a dumb blonde, y'know. Yeah, sure she loves me, and that makes her dependable. I know she'll always do anything for me. It also makes her predictable. I ain't predictable.

Anyway, what if you put someone else's needs before yours just so they'll take the fall instead of you? Like when I let Harley go into a crime scene first to check and see if Batsy's around. I let her get the first piece of action, but I'm doing it so she'll get beaten instead of me. Putting her needs before my own, see? Who doesn't enjoy a good beating?

Oh, and those times I let her get dragged back to Arkham without me. She likes going back to Arkham – I'm catering to her needs to see all her pals again! The Weed Lady, and all the other pathetic losers like her…

Hey, if I went with her, that'd be me being selfish! Jealous of her company! So no, I ain't selfish! I let her go back to Arkham on her own and spend some quality time with her gal pal. I ain't a jealous guy, not me, even if there are rumors floating around about Harley and the Weed Lady! And I think that's mostly wishful thinking anyway. But the point is, I let her have her freedom locked up in Arkham. I ain't clingy or jealous or possessive, and I put her need for space before my own. So how's that for love?

Not that I do love her, I mean. That's kinda a weakness, y'know? That implies that you need someone, and I don't need anyone. Well, except for Batsy, but he knows that. I don't put Batsy's needs before mine, but there's a whole buncha crap on the internet that says I love him! So your definition is clearly a little flawed, if you don't mind my saying.

It is _not _a simple yes or no question! All right, if you're gonna be black and white and boring, no, I don't love her! But only idiots are satisfied with answers like that. You must be an idiot. The world ain't about yes and no – Two-Face thinks that, but he's a real lunatic. The world is full of all kindsa colors and shades of light. You gotta be some kinda moron to think there's some real truth out there. Like Batsy. He wears black because that's how he sees the world. A place full of darkness, that he's gotta bring into the light. And don't tell me he ain't a psychopath. Looking at things that way, he shuts himself off from all the joys the color black can bring. I mean, it ain't just darkness. It's the color of half of Harley's costume. It's the color of bruises, which are always enjoyable. It's a color found in paintings and art – if you listen to artistic types, it's actually all the colors of the rainbow spectrum blended together! If the world is dark, it's because it's got all kindsa colors in it. But Bats can't see them. He focuses on the negative, because he's got a negative kinda mind. He just sees the black.

And you people, with your questions. With your yes or no answers, you're just as bad. Can't a guy just get on with his life without answering stupid yes or no questions like if he loves a dame? She don't need that answer. She's smarter than that. She sees the colors too.

I guess that's why people call us crazy. Because most people can't put a positive spin on life. They're so obsessed with their boring, meaningless lives of drudgery that they wanna bring everyone else down with 'em. They want to make everyone's lives as dark as theirs – that's true for Batsy anyway. So when people are happy and positive, like us, they think they gotta lock us up, so people can interrogate us and question us and find out what makes us so special. Why we ain't depressed like everyone else. And they try to keep us locked up until we are.

Well, it ain't ever gonna work for me. You do your worst. No matter what you hit me with, I'll keep smiling. And so will Harley. I've given her lots of practice taking hits, y'know. It's for her own good, and sometimes she deserves to be disciplined for being incompetent. And sometimes I just need to keep her strong. So that no matter what anyone else beats her down with, she'll keep on smiling.

Lemme tell you a joke. There's this guy who treats his dame like crap. And she still stays. And she still smiles. And she still laughs. And she still loves him. Now ain't that funny? Why aren't you laughing?

**The End**


End file.
